Past the Reputations
by Pallet and Cerulean
Summary: Claire and Owen finally meet after hearing all about each other around the park, though things don't always go exactly as planned.


Claire.

She was all anyone could talk about. She was girl who had risen from unpaid intern to operations manager in the matter of just a few years.

Owen first heard her name a few years ago, tossed around by a couple of handlers on a list of the hottest girls on the island. At the time, when they asked his opinion of her, Owen just shrugged and told them he'd never met her and that he was too busy trying to keep all his fingers away from hungry raptor hatchlings to be checking out girls. After that, they tabled the discussion and got back to work.

Aside from the occasional mention, Owen didn't hear anything more about Claire. Though, when she took the promotion and became operations manager, Masrani's number two in the company, everyone was talking. Some claimed they always knew she would wind up high in the company, some were awed by her quick climb, and others whispered that she must have done a lot of kissing up, and maybe sleeping around, to end up where she was. Though he was never really one to believe in rumors, Owen couldn't really say much on how she'd done it. It seemed impossible, frankly, but he'd never met the girl and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

It wasn't until she started coming to check up on the raptors and their progress that he actually met Claire. Though, for the longest time, all he got was a brief introduction. Still, with her eyes bright and chin held high, he could tell she was something special, the rare type with the spark and drive to take on the world. He could see how she had gotten her position so quickly. She was professional, but had the motivation and enthusiasm that every other corporate climber seemed to be missing. And, from briefly asking about her schedule to firm up a time she could watch the raptors progress, it was clear she lived for her work.

Though, after that first day, Owen didn't get the chance to talk to her again. Instead, she would come to the raptor enclosure every week, watching from behind the glass. Always scribbling on a clipboard, she took down her notes on their behavior, no doubt weighing their potential against the amount it cost to keep them. For a while, Owen hated the idea of her watching. It was like he was back in school, a teacher staring over his shoulder while he worked on his assignment. He did his best work alone and liked it that way. Claire was nothing more than added pressure, judging the raptors on their bad days or on his slip ups and holding their fate in her hands. Besides, he other handlers videoed most of his formal training sessions with the raptors, so if she was really so interested, those files could easily be sent to her and she could watch them back at Control.

After a while, though, Owen started to warm up to her presence. He started to notice little things he hadn't before, like the way she tried, and failed, to hide her smile whenever he made a breakthrough, all in the name of staying objective and professional. It was cute, the way her lips would curve up into a sweet smile before she would catch herself and bite her lip in an attempt to hide it. Or, there was the way she always looked a little out of breath whenever she ran late, like she had hurried there as fast as she could. There were even days, on the rare occasion, that Owen could have sworn she ran to get there on time, her cheeks pink and hair a bit windblown. Owen found himself getting used to the flashes of red hair in the window and to the idea of her watching, eventually to the point that he found himself waiting all week just to see her face.

During training, Owen's attention started to shift. At first, it was all about Blue, Charlie, Delta, and Echo. They were his pack and they were the top focus at all times. Yet, the longer Claire came to observe his training, the more he found his gaze on her instead of the dinosaurs. When her eyes were down, writing out notes, Owen let his glances linger. Pretty, jade eyes scanned across the page, dark eyelashes brushing across her pale cheeks. Her fiery red hair framed her face, the silky strands falling to obscure her expression when she tilted her head down to write. Only when her gaze came back up, searching him and his raptors out, would Owen turn away. Then, it was back to training, the momentary distraction pushed from his mind, at least, until he had the chance to look again.

—

Owen.

He was all anyone could talk about. He was the man who could tame and control the raptors with nothing more than single command.

When Claire had first gotten to Jurassic World, fresh out of college and taking it all in with wide eyes, she heard whispers of a project meant to train the dinosaurs. At the time, she had just rolled her eyes, sure that it was just a baseless rumor. Though, when a man named Owen Grady was called in from the Navy to work with the Velociraptors, she started to wonder if it really was possible.

Of course, as she rose up through the ranks, Claire was responsible for knowing more and more about the park and all of its features. And when she finally took her hard earned position at the top of Jurassic World, she knew a good amount about Owen and his raptors. Even if it hadn't been part of her job, there was no way Claire could have escaped hearing about his progress. People were amazed with him and the way he could command the dinosaurs, even if it was still just a work in progress. So, Claire was definitely interested when Masrani asked her to monitor the project and ensure his money was being spent wisely.

The first thing that struck her when she met Owen was that he wasn't like the army men she had met before. They had all been rigid and strict, bound to order, and they always held themselves to a higher sort of standard. Owen, on the other hand, seemed casual and relaxed, though still respectful. It set her nerves at ease, hoping that he would be an easy one to work with. She had enough uptight people to deal with on a daily basis.

When Claire started her observations, she couldn't believe the way he interacted with the raptors. He wasn't afraid of them. He didn't stay behind bars or cover himself in protective gear. Instead, he just walked in and greeted them like a pack of puppies. What stunned her even more was that they didn't attack him. There was a trust, even if she couldn't fathom ever trusting a dinosaur. And the more she watched him, the more she saw the compassion in his interactions with the pack. He truly cared about the raptors in a way Claire had never experienced. She wasn't sure if she'd ever even cared about a person in the way he cared for the raptors.

The first real chance she had to talk to him, work and dinosaurs aside, was a few months later. Like every other week, Claire watched Owen train, safely behind a thick pane of glass. He was working with Echo, who seemed to be the most troublesome of the group. She was more aggressive than the others and less apt to listening to his commands. However, things were going surprisingly well. Echo was actually being quite complacent, for a predator anyway, and was making good progress.

Jotting down a note on the behavior she was working on, Claire turned her attention down to the log she had been keeping. Though, when she looked back up, her blood turned to ice. Owen's eyes were on her, attention shifted away from the juvenile raptor in front of him, and Echo knew it. Time seemed to slow as the young raptor leaned back on her haunches, muscles coiling tightly beneath her scales, ready to pounce. There was a bright, predatory gleam in her eyes, sparking to life the moment Owen turned his gaze away. Panic surged in Claire's chest, tightening her lungs, icy fear clawing at her throat. She wanted to call out and warn him, even though she knew her voice wouldn't carry through the thick glass, but she was frozen in her spot. All she could do was watch, waves of terror crashing over her.

Just as Owen started to turn his gaze back, Echo lunged, sharp rows of teeth poised to land at his throat. She moved with terrifying speed, faster than Claire had ever seen, like a strike of lightning. And though Owen wasn't faster than her, he was fast enough. He jerked his arm up, the heavy arm guard taking the brunt of the damage. Echo's sharp talons scrabbled against the thick leather, fighting to get a good grip. The raptor hissed and snarled and her teeth, though they missed their mark, still managed to sink into Owen's shoulder. After a few heart pounding moments, Claire still watching on in horror, he managed to jostle Echo off, her needle-like teeth slick with blood.

Usually, Claire wasn't too put off by the sight of blood, but watching Echo's jaws drip with Owen's blood, staining the concrete below a deep crimson, made her dizzy. Sharp fear mingled nauseatingly with shock, settling like a rock in her stomach. Before any of the other handlers had the chance to intervene, Echo sprung once more. Owen threw his protected arm up, trying to block the blow, but Echo lurched to the side, sinking a few teeth into the heel of his hand. This time, when Owen managed to shake her free, handlers hurried in and pushed Echo back to her holding pen, keeping squarely between her and Owen.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Claire eased back away from the glass, not remembering when she had pressed so close to it. Though, when she took a step back, all she could feel was her trembling hands and weak knees. Shock coursed through her limbs and revulsion turned uneasily in her stomach. Her head felt too light and the adrenaline rushing through her veins wasn't helping. Claire wasn't sure whether she needed to vomit or pass out, but she could say that neither sounded like appealing options.

Attempting to calm herself down, Claire ran a shaky hand through her hair. Though she was well aware of the dangers, she'd never actually seen anyone be injured by one of the dinosaurs before. It always seemed more like a theoretical possibility, one that she knew of but would never come to light. Now, though, watching blood spill from Owen's shoulder and trickle down his palm to drip off his fingertips, she found her sheltered system was poorly prepared. She thought she was ready to deal with the reality, but the sight made her sick.

Collecting the shards of her composure, Claire shook herself back into reality, forcing her brain back to work mode. Heels clicking on the concrete, she hurried down the hall to the door that separated her from the main raptor enclosure. Pulling in a deep breath, Claire briefly stopped in front of the door, trying to slow the hammering of her heart. She quietly smoothed her trembling hands over her skirt, wiping away the cold, clammy sweat that had gathered on her palms. As ready as she could be, Claire pushed open the door, handlers buzzing around the enclosure. After a moment, disoriented by all the activity, Claire picked Owen out from a small group.

As she made her way across the pen, pulse thrumming too quickly, she was relieved to see there was already a temporary bandage wrapped around his shoulder and he was keeping his hand pressed to a clean cloth. When she slowed to a stop in front of Owen, the other trainers and behaviorist gathered around him dispersed, leaving them alone.

As soon as his gaze met hers, his expression morphed into something akin to worry. "You alright?" Owen asked, the look in his eyes softening.

"What?"

Claire blurted the question out before she could stop herself, her typical polish and eloquence shaken. She should have been asking him if he was okay, not the other way around. It didn't make any sense. At her candid response, though, Owen smiled gently, amused. "You look really pale," Owen replied, explaining his concern.

His words helped set her still pounding heart at ease. Owen was the only person she knew who would worry about someone else when he had just gotten attacked by a Velociraptor. Her heart melted a little at the thought, something akin to affection fluttering in her stomach. Still, her worries trumped the warmth bubbling up in her chest.

"I'm fine," Claire insisted, probably a bit too quickly to be believable, "but what about you?" Her eyes fell to the bandage at his shoulder where red splotches were already starting to appear on the white linen. It wouldn't be long until the crimson stain soaked all the way through if the bleeding didn't stop soon.

"It hurts like hell, but I'll be fine," Owen replied, wincing when he gave his shoulder an experimental roll. "Echo's still too small to do much real damage," he explained, though Claire would disagree. If Owen hadn't blocked her when he did, she probably would have torn his throat out.

"I'll call first aid and have them send someone," Claire said, trying to regain some semblance of calm and control over the situation. Before she could even reach for her phone, though, Owen was protesting.

"Seriously, Claire, I'm fine. Don't bug them, I'm sure they've got enough on their hands with all your tourists," he countered, voice firm.

Claire crossed her arms over her chest, blowing out a short breath. He was hurt, it was the medic's job to take care of him. But, if Owen wanted to be stubborn, Claire could play the same game. "Fine, but you're taking the rest of the day off," Claire asserted, tone leaving little room for argument. Knowing what she did of Owen, Claire figured he'd go back to training as soon as she left if she didn't stop him. He was too dedicated for his own good, but, then again, the same could be said about her.

After a beat, looking for a way to argue her point, Owen finally gave in, a look of resignation crossing his features. "That's fair," Owen agreed.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Claire let herself relax a bit, the earlier adrenaline draining from her system. Despite that, guilt was starting to eat quietly away at her insides. She was the one in charge here, and Owen had gotten hurt on her watch. She was the one responsible for him, even if she couldn't have changed the outcome. "I'll take you home, since you can't exactly drive like that," Claire offered, though it was more of attempt to make herself feel better than anything else.

A somewhat bitter smile ghosting over his lips, Owen gave a short nod. "I think I'll take you up on that," he said, gratitude edged into his more casual tone.

The drive back to his bungalow was quiet, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Claire was focused on the road, trying to clear her head, and Owen just listened to the staticky songs that hummed from the radio. Only when they pulled down the drive, gravel crunching beneath the tires, did a sort of uncertainty slip into the air.

Guilt, and maybe something else that Claire didn't want to acknowledge, something warmer and fonder, made her hesitate. She should have just let Owen out of the car and given him a polite goodbye. Yet, it just didn't sit right with her. So, when he stepped out of the car, offering a quiet glance back at her with appreciation written in his expression, Claire couldn't just let him go.

"Do you want some help?" She offered, gesturing to his injured hand. While she didn't have much medical experience, she had spent a little bit of time with the Red Cross and picked up some first aid knowledge. Besides, it'd probably be tough for him to bandage the wound with just one hand.

"You're not too busy?" Owen asked, skepticism crossing his expression. In his experience, Claire was always running around, hurrying from one appointment to the next without a chance to breathe. He could count the number of times he'd actually seen her with a moment of free time on one hand.

"An employee got injured on my watch. I think that's more important than anything else I've got scheduled," Claire replied, though she had to admit that Owen had a point. She'd probably have to reschedule whatever she had planned after this, and Zara would no doubt get on her case about it, but she just didn't feel right letting Owen go. She felt responsible for what happened so she would do her best to help him out.

"Well, if you're sure," Owen replied, bringing his good hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I guess some help wrapping this bite might be nice," he added, gaze dropping to his injured hand. The bleeding had more or less stopped during the drive back to his bungalow, but the flesh was still a raw shade of red and starting to swell.

Satisfied, Claire switched off the ignition and pocketed her keys. She stepped out of the car, following Owen up the dusty path to his front door. Claire had never been to Owen's bungalow before, but she had heard about it when Masrani asked her to authorize him to use the small plot of land as he'd like. At the time, she'd assumed he planned to build a proper house, though now, standing on his deck, she could say that wasn't the case. It was more of a messy, ramshackle shed than a house, but Claire supposed it suited Owen rather well. She would have been far more surprised if she had pulled up to something pristine and precise.

Inside, Owen left her at the door and turned off to the side, mumbling something about a first aid kit. Gaze absently drifting over the interior of the little bungalow, Claire was pleasantly surprised to find it was decently clean. There was some clutter that littered the floor here and there and a few dirty coffee mugs sat in the sink, but it really wasn't bad. She had half expected to walk into a total mess, but she supposed she had judged Owen a little too harshly on that front. He wasn't as neat and organized as she was, but Claire had definitely seen worse.

It wasn't long before Owen returned with a decent sized first aid kit that looked far too used for her liking. How many other times had something like this happened? Had he gotten bitten by the raptors often when they were younger? Questions whirled through her mind, but Owen didn't seem to take any notice. Instead, he just dug out a bottle of disinfectant and a roll of white bandages.

"You still up to help?" Owen asked, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, Claire didn't seem like the type to play nurse or even really know what to do with an injury. She was always so prim and proper, working with all the higher-ups, that he doubted she ever really got more than a paper cut herself. Her skin looked too nice to have seen much wear too, pale and smooth with few traces of scars or imperfections.

"I offered, didn't I?" Claire shot back, not taking kindly to the doubt in Owen's voice. She may not have fought in a war or wrestled with Velociraptors like Owen, but she could certainly handle herself.

Taking the disinfectant and bandages, Claire set them on the tiny dining table beside her. She looked through the first aid kit too, pulling out a cotton swab for the disinfectant. After dousing the scrap of cotton with disinfectant, the sharp scent biting in her lungs, Claire held out her free hand expectantly. Without a second thought, Owen set his injured hand in hers. For a short moment, all Claire noticed was the warmth of his skin against her cool fingers and the way his hand fit perfectly against her open palm.

Though, Owen's waiting gaze on the side of her face brought her thoughts back to the task at hand. Still, she couldn't ignore the faint warmth that crept up over her cheeks. Redirecting her attention to the cotton swab between her fingers, Claire started to dab at the bite on Owen's hand. She heard him suck in a sharp breath, flinching slightly, and something tugged at her heart. Claire did her best to brush off the feeling, focusing on making sure each and every mark from Echo's teeth was thoroughly cleaned out.

Once the wounds were cleaned, Claire reached for the roll of bandages. Swiping a stray strand of fiery red hair out of her eyes, Claire gently turned Owen's hand over so his palm was facing down. With her gaze kept squarely on his hand, she started to wrap the bandages over the bite. She worked quickly and quietly, not daring to break the sort of thick atmospheric haze settling over the moment. When she finished, tucking the end of the bandage neatly under itself, Claire finally allowed herself to look up.

Holding her breath, she let her gaze fall to Owen's expression, affection and longing clear in his features. Still, his dark eyes held heavy restraint. Suddenly, Claire was all too conscious of the way her fingers still lingered against his skin, his injured hand still cradled in her fingertips. Her heart picking up its pace, Claire slowly pulled her hands away, gaze still locked with Owen's. A small, unruly part of her wondered what would happen if she just leaned in a little, if she just let her guard slip for a moment. In that moment, the world seemed soft and warm and quiet, letting Claire's mind drift to indulgent wishes.

But then Owen cleared his throat and Claire took a step back, reigning in and tamping down any lingering desires. The quiet spellbound moment was gone, and with its disappearance, Claire's control returned. They were just coworkers, nothing more. She couldn't let herself think of them as anything more.

Gaze lingering warmly on Claire, Owen let out a slow breath. "Hey, would you be interested in going out to dinner sometime?" Owen asked, voice low and laced with something hopeful that made Claire's heart flutter. Time seemed to slow as Claire let his words sink in. Maybe she could let herself imagine a future where they were more than just coworkers, closer than that. Just maybe.

"It that your way of thanking me?" Claire asked, trying to keep her tone light, though the wanting slipping into her voice betrayed her.

Owen's lips quirked up ever so slightly into a sly smile and Claire didn't miss the way he eased closer. "No, I've had my eye on you for a while," he answered, not missing a beat despite the fact that Claire's heart missed several.

A shy grin slipping onto her features, pale eyes bright, Claire let her walls fall for just a moment. She just wanted to enjoy the warmth of the moment and reveal in Owen's smile. "I think dinner sounds nice," Claire replied, and she couldn't help thinking that a whole new chapter of her life was just beginning.


End file.
